nd the three sitting in front of the
fire.
"Here he is!" cried the duke.
As soon as the mother saw me she screamed and fell nearly fainting on a
chair. I looked at her fixedly for a minute, and exclaimed,--
"Donna Lucrezia! I am fortunate indeed!"
"Let us take breath, my dear friend. Come and sit by me. So you are going
to marry my daughter, are you?"
I took a chair and guessed it all. My hair stood on end, and I relapsed
into a gloomy silence.
The stupefied astonishment of Leonilda and the duke cannot be described.
They could see that Donna Lucrezia and I knew each other, but they could
not get any farther. As for myself, as I pondered gloomily and compared
Leonilda's age with the period at which I had been intimate with Lucrezia
Castelli, I could see that it was quite possible that she might be my
daughter; but I told myself that the mother could not be certain of the
fact, as at the time she lived with her husband, who was very fond of her
and not fifty years of age. I could bear the suspense no longer, so,
taking a light and begging Leonilda and the duke to excuse me, I asked
Lucrezia to come into the next room with me.
As soon as she was seated, she drew me to her and said,--
"Must I grieve my dear one when I have loved so well? Leonilda is your
daughter, I am certain of it. I always looked upon her as your daughter,
and my husband knew it, but far from being angry, he used to adore her. I
will shew you the register of her birth, and you can calculate for
yourself. My husband was at Rome, and did not see me once, and my
daughter did not come before her time. You must remember a letter which
my mother should have given you, in which I told you I was with child.
That was in January, 1744, and in six months my daughter will be
seventeen. My late husband gave her the names of Leonilda Giacomina at
the baptismal font, and when he played with her he always called her by
the latter name. This idea of your marrying her horrifies me, but I
cannot oppose it, as I am ashamed to tell the reason. What do you think?
Have you still the courage to marry her? You seem to hesitate. Have you
taken any earnest of the marriage-bed?"
"No, dear Lucrezia, your daughter is as pure as a lily."
"I breathe again."
"Ah, yes! but my heart is torn asunder."
"I am grieved to see you thus."
"She has no likeness to me."
"That proves nothing; she has taken after me. You are weeping, dearest,
you will break my heart."
|